Mel's Cutting Garden

“There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” 

-Ernest Hemingway

Friends, I’m feeling a little anemic. I’ve been writing about some really heavy stuff the last couple of weeks, like the arduous journey to Pierce’s autism diagnosis, and my multiple depression diagnoses. In order to make the reader feel what I felt, I have to dig up the emotions and details of those times in my life I’d rather forget. My current headspace is not great. 

Fortunately, I have a distraction. My 2022 cutting garden is already growing! Last week, I sowed the first seeds of hardy annuals I’ll be planting in the fall. A few of my little babies have begun to sprout. I began with piles of 4-pack flats from some of the puny annuals in the greenhouse that had to be tossed. I soaked them in a bleach solution to kill any lingering plant diseases then scrubbed them clean. I used a soilless potting mix we produce at the nursery: EarthMix Proganix I. After researching every single plant I’d be sowing, I figured out their optimal conditions for germination. Tim set the grow lights up with a timer that can be controlled with an app. Here’s what the rack looks like:

I’m growing several varieties of snapdragons, foxglove, pincushion flower, canterbury bells, statice, flowering kale, dianthus, stock, and Queen Anne’s lace. I’ll also be adding some delphinium, godetia, strawflower, calendula, yarrow, rudbeckia, and sweet peas. All but one of the kale seeds have germinated along with 1 canterbury bell, 4 pincushion flower, 15 statice, and three teeny tiny foxgloves. Most of the plants I’ve sown are hardy to zone 7 or lower, but I’m experimenting with the godetia, stock, and strawflower. Those are only hardy to zone 8. I’m saving seeds for a spring sowing in case these don’t make it. I hope to have some babies to plant in the new bed within a few weeks!

Flowering Kale

Statice

I need a magnifying glass for these teensy foxgloves

I’ve spent hours making plans, organizing the plants I want to grow by color, shape (daisy, spike, or lace), and function (focal flowers, fillers, or foliage). I am going full plant nerd. In the coming weeks, I’ll share some of those lists and plans. Just in case you’re as fascinated/nerdy as me. Short post tonight. I needed to walk away from the pit of despair for a few minutes and think about something else. Thank God Ted Lasso is back!! Season two is exactly what I need right now.

So Hyped

Work is slow, but I have been busy. One of my essays was picked up for publication! Most of you know this already. You’ve read it and given me the most wonderful feedback. Thank you so much for sharing with me the emotions this essay provoked. I can’t always tell if I’m adequately conveying my feelings through my writing. In case you missed it, you can read it here. My editor is very excited about the book’s progress. The word count of a typical memoir is between 60,000 and 75,000. I can’t give a definite number, because I have some revisions to finish on a few of the essays that were most recently edited. I’m currently hovering at around a 40,000-word third draft. I’m eager to complete this project, so my editor and I have agreed to step up the pace just a little. I’m sending her 2-3 essays a week. I don’t want to jinx myself by setting a publishing goal, but I can’t help getting excited when K.K. and I discuss the big picture; a book layout for the essays I’ve completed and ones still in the hopper. 

I’m also getting excited about next year’s cutting garden while logging some failures from this year. I did two sowings of sunflowers in late spring/early summer. I’ve had the worst time getting them to germinate, and of the ones that finally did, many of them have been attacked by critters (rabbits? snails? both?) I made one last ditch effort for fall sunflowers with a late sowing on the 14th. Many of those have germinated, so I’ve set up a grow tunnel over them and covered the hoops with bird netting. Fingers crossed. One of my most devastating losses happened in the perennial garden. My native purple coneflower has a disease called asters yellow that is spread by the aster leafhopper. Over 200 species of plants are susceptible to the disease. The blooms and foliage mutate into a twisted deformed mess. There is no treatment; the plant needs to be thrown away. Of course this is the year I’ve gone coneflower crazy, planting about 10 different varieties. Now I have to hope and pray that the disease hasn’t spread to the new coneflowers, zinnias, and dahlias. I keep my spirits up planning for next year. I heard this on one of my gardening podcasts last week, and it kinda blew my mind: "Failure is just research and development." What a way to be optimistic.

Through all of the nerdy plant podcasts and books I’ve listened to or read over the last six weeks, I’ve discovered a plant classification called hardy annuals. There are many annuals and a few perennials that love a cool spring, and that is usually when the plants are available in garden centers. But our spring is so short, these plants fry before they ever get the chance to bloom. It turns out, many of those plants are winter hardy in zone 7, earning them the hardy annual classification. I’d already discovered this with the snapdragons I planted last year. They wintered over and have bloomed all spring. Here in zone 7, we can start those annuals that aren’t available at garden centers from seed in the late summer or early fall, then plant them in the garden six weeks before winter. This allows the plants to grow a substantial root system all winter that will help them last all spring and very early into summer. I will be starting my first batch of seed in a few days (most likely snapdragons, since they’re slow to germinate) and I am so freakin excited!! I will be documenting the process and giving regular updates. 

Tim continues to humor but support me. I explained the ideal setup for seed starting, and he built me a growing rack complete with a grow light for every shelf! Forget the diamonds, I’ll take gardening gifts any day of the week. He’s also painted my new writing room AKA Fortress of Solitude, installed a new light fixture, and moved in some displaced bookshelves. I have lots of prints framed, but I haven’t decided how I want to display them yet, so my walls are still bare. Still, it does feel more like my space instead of a teenager’s old bedroom. 

I was asked recently if Tim is excited about the progress I’m making towards a published book. The McKay men are notoriously even-keeled. Tim’s temperament is probably the biggest reason I’ve mellowed with age. I understand this about Tim and have adapted. But there are times I’m hyped about something and want him to be on my level, and I get frustrated when he seems apathetic. I feel like I don’t have his support. Then he does things without being asked like paint my new writing room, till a new garden, or build a rack for my seed-starting adventure. He makes a space for me where I can be creative, allows me time to write by doing the grocery shopping instead of expecting me to do it on my day off, and gives me an hour after work to enjoy my garden while he cooks dinner. My husband may not pump his fist and send a proud email to all of his friends with a link to my latest essay, but he spurs me on in his own subdued manner. I’ll take it.

Summer Lovin'

Summer is officially here, and I’ve survived another spring season at Bates. Yesterday was our last Sunday to be open, so I’ll have two days off for 3 blissful months, until we open on Sundays again in the fall. I’m still plugging away, writing my little heart out. I have 9 essays that have made it through final edits. I’m very pleased with my progress. To date, I have submitted my essays to 38 different publications. I’ve received 11 rejections, and no acceptances. I’m disappointed, though I must say, each email declining my work has been affirming and encouraging. I will not be deterred. I will continue to send my work out and hope it lands on the right desk at the right time. 

I know a lot of my southern brothers and sisters bemoan our hellish summers. After spending the day in and out of a 100+ degree greenhouse, I do my fair share of complaining. But mercy do I love the summer. My brain gets quiet and I can dream about all of the creative endeavors I enjoy. Currently, I am obsessing over plans for a bigger and better cutting garden. In the spring, I suggested a Bates Nursery webinar on cutting gardens. We put a date on the calendar and I got to work researching all of the possibilities. This got me excited about cutting my own flowers and made me a bit greedy for more space to try growing things I never have before. Shortly after I did the webinar (which you can find here), one of my coworkers suggested the idea of a weekly social media post highlighting the arrangement of the week. I thought it was brilliant and volunteered to pull the arrangements together for Flower Power Friday. Here are my first three:

At the beginning of June, I stumbled onto a podcast on which the topic was cut flowers, the farmers that grow them, and the push to encourage florists and consumers to buy locally grown flowers in lieu of all the perfect blooms on commercially grown flowers. Of course I said, “Tell me more!” Nearly 3 weeks since I found that podcast, I’ve purchased 15 books (one hasn't even been released yet) on growing and arranging cut flowers and ordered hundreds of seeds and bulbs. That escalated quickly. I have fallen in love with dahlias this year. I started with a few small ones I purchased at Bates, then made the mistake of checking out some end-of-season sales online. Y’all, I have planted 42 different varieties now. I need an intervention.

My dear sweet husband has given me free rein of the back yard. All he asks for is a path to get the mower from the shed to the front yard. After 30 years together, he’s gotten used to my propensity to get some wild and over-the-top ideas. I think he’s decided to just go with it. I told Tim that my goal for next year is to grow so many flowers, I have arrangements in every room, and bouquets to give away. This weekend, I met a man who does just that.

His name is Richard, and he lives in Nashville. He’s been a Bates customer for decades. He was chatting up my coworker, and she called me over. Richard and his lovely wife of 60 years (!!!) tend a garden every summer filled with dahlias. And when I say filled, I mean FILLED. He grows about 800 dahlias and has 150 different varieties! I hung on his every word, drooling as he showed us picture after picture of his stunning collection. We asked if he grew the flowers to sell and he replied, “Absolutely not!” He gives them away. Y’ALL. My heart melted, and I thought I might cry. He’s living my dream! I can’t even imagine the profit he could make by taking these blooms to the farmer’s market or local florists, but he is fulfilled by spreading joy to his neighbors without expecting a thing in return. He left us a business card with his contact info and told us that we should come by sometime for a tour. “And bring a bucket!”

Many of you have told me how much you enjoy my floral arrangements. Get ready, because I’ll be posting pictures of them all summer long. And one day, I hope to be just like Richard, handing out bouquets to anyone who needs a little pick-me-up.

May Days

Now that the threat of frost has finally passed, I'm enjoying lots of spring flowers that I've been able to cut and bring indoors. I'm hoping for a bigger and better cutting garden this year. I've planted more lilies, dahlias, snapdragons, and gladiolas. A few of the perennials I planted last year have already tripled in size, offering up more blossoms for bouquets. 

Spring at the nursery has begun to ease up just a bit. We’ve hit the peak of busyness, and we’re beginning to coast downhill. While I look forward to feeling less frantic (and having Sundays off again), I know I’ll soon miss those spring days where there’s always something that needs to be done as opposed to the slow summer season, standing in one spot most of the day deadheading and trimming back plants. The inactivity gives me more time to live in my head, which is a scary place to be sometimes. But it could also be an opportunity to ruminate on things I’ve written or want to write and ways to better to tell my stories. 

I have some good news and bad news today. The bad news is that I won’t be staying in that lovely beach house in Mexico again next winter. The good news is that Tim and I are in the process of purchasing a beachfront condo in the same town, Chelém Mexico! We looked at our options for beach houses in the area. They were either too far back from the beach with too few windows or in need of major repairs. This is a new building with five units. Four condos are downstairs. The second floor is all one unit. This is the one we have purchased. The living/dining/kitchen area is open, and there are floor to ceiling windows from one end of the room to the other. We get to keep a lot of the furniture, but Tim and I can’t wait to spend some time there this summer making the place our own. We just signed the contract on Friday, so we haven’t officially closed yet. Tim flew down last month to check things out before we made an offer, so I have a few pictures (and one I stole from the listing) to share. I’ll have plenty more when we’re both able to go back in a couple of months. Our plan is to rent it out every year from March to December, then I’ll live there through January and February. So get your passports ready; I’ll share a listing once the property is available for rent.

In other news, I just got my second vaccine today, which means that 3 out of 4 McKays are fully vaccinated!! We all got the Pfizer vaccine. Tim had a low-grade fever and felt a little puny afterwards. Pierce didn’t seem to have any ill effects. I have my fingers crossed that I’ll feel fine tomorrow. 

I’m still writing and editing. The editing process is slow and tedious. If you were hoping to see a book from me this year, I think it’s safe to say that it will not be published in 2021. But the longer this takes, the better the book will be. K.K. is helping to make my pretty good stories into great stories. I’m excited about what we’ve accomplished. I have 5 essays I can consider as final drafts. My editor suggested I try getting some of them published, so I’m submitting my writing for publication again. It could be months before I hear whether or not my essays have been accepted, and I can only get those one or two yeses by pitching to a lot of people. This work isn’t fun, and it will be tough to add to the pile of rejection letters again. But my editor and I think that getting these essays published will help my cause in getting a complete manuscript published some day. 

That’s my Spring 2021 update. Get outside! Get vaccinated! 

Clarity

I feel the need to clear the air this morning. I may be writing this blog post with a few people in mind, but my message is for the entire reading world. It  seems like common sense, and yet, this need to be addressed.

One event, a single moment in time, will be perceived in as many different ways as there are people sharing the experience of that event or moment. If you don’t believe this, read some consumer reviews of movies, books, or products on Amazon. If another person’s experience differs from yours, does this mean one of you is lying? Most of the time the answer to that question is no. It is also possible for two conflicting statements to be true about a single experience. Though I write about one aspect of my story, it is not a complete picture. For example, I may write about the undiagnosed anxiety I had as a child, but this does not mean that I had an awful childhood. I can write about my struggles with faith and church, but this shouldn’t imply that I’ve rejected Jesus or Christianity. 

There was an episode in season two of This Is Us that really stuck with me. Kevin, the typical middle child, was in rehab, and his therapist had the whole family come in to one of his therapy sessions. His mother and siblings seemed blindsided by Kevin’s interpretation of the upbringing he received. Four people in that room grew up in the same house, and four people saw those same years together in four very different ways. Our family is no different. My sister and I did not see the events that happened in our home in exactly the same way. And the version of my story I have to tell does not resemble that of my parents.

Most of the stories I’ve written center around depression, marriage, faith, and parenting both of my children; one of whom is typical and one of whom is autistic. Since my battles with anxiety and depression began as a child, I’ve included a few stories about my childhood. I also write about my extensive family history of depression and suicide. I’ve worried about hurting people with my writing. An author friend of mine told me, “Just write your version of the truth. That’s all you can do.” I can only promise not to inflate or fabricate details. I will tell you about my emotions, my take-aways, my memories. These essays are my stories. 

There are family members that have forbidden me from writing about the important roles they played in my life. I do not believe this is a reasonable request. I did not live these stories in a bubble. It is impossible to tell my stories without mentioning other people that played a part in shaping those stories. No one owns the exclusive rights to a life experience shared by multiple people. No one family member owns the exclusive rights to a shared family history. I have consulted a lawyer on all the steps I need to take in order to protect myself from liability. It grieves me to have to do so. It doesn’t have to be this way, especially since I don’t seek to vilify anyone. If any family wants to write their stories and their perspective of our shared experiences, I will not stand in their way. Even if their stories paint me in a less-than-flattering light.

I say all of this because my words are already being twisted and misinterpreted. I am not an atheist. I was not physically or sexually abused as a child. I’m appalled and dumbfounded that anyone has come to these conclusions after reading my blog posts. My book is not a tell-all exposé. It barely even registers as controversial. I’m annoyed that I have just started the editing process, nowhere near to having a published book in my hands, and yet here we are, addressing the inevitable backlash. 

As I design my new space for writing/reading/crafting/solitude, I have found prints on Etsy of some of my favorite quotes. This one arrived a few days ago. It will hang over my desk. I leave you with this.

One Step Closer

Spring has arrived, which means I am transitioning into survival mode. I’m working six days a week, and my days are a blur of plant deliveries and customers’ questions. Any spare time at home in the evenings and on my one day off are dedicated to writing and editing. I know a few of you actually look forward to my weekly blog posts on Mondays, which I appreciate. For the next few months, these posts will be less frequent. 

Last Monday, I didn’t have time for a blog entry, so I wrote a rather lengthy Facebook post. If you missed it, I shared some news. I am working with an editor! It’s a small step towards having a book published, but I’m excited about this development. Your comments on that Facebook post made me teary. It’s so heartwarming to know how many of you are celebrating with me and believe in me. I sent the first essay to my editor last week, and I received her feedback on Saturday. This, too, made me pretty weepy. It’s one thing to hear praise of my writing from friends and family. But to make an editor say, “Wow. Well done.”, and see adjectives like “fascinating”, “compelling”, and “moving” attributed to something I wrote was thrilling. The essay wasn’t perfect; she had suggestions for how to tell the story better. But since I felt this nagging possibility I’d receive feedback indicating that my story was hot garbage, I was over the moon when I read this email. We have scheduled weekly Zoom calls on Mondays. Today I learned a lot about how to make a good story even better. I can’t wait to use this knowledge to improve my other essays.

I’ve spent many years listening to people who focus on my shortcomings and things I shouldn’t do instead of using that energy to recognize and nurture my talents. This has made it difficult for me to accept praise when I’ve done something right. No matter how many people tell me I’m a good writer, I will always have this deep-seated belief that I’m not good enough. I crave hearing “Well done” (even though I sometimes find the praise hard to believe), and I really hate this about myself. If this writing gets out into the world, I know I will have to develop a thicker skin. In my 40s, I’m learning the hard way that I can’t please everyone. While I hope my book makes its way to people who will find solidarity within my stories, I am aware of this reality: my essays are guaranteed to piss some people off, and bore other people to tears. Knowing this doesn’t make the bitter pill any easier to swallow. 

I am so very grateful for those of you who are in my corner, whether you’ve always been there or arrived just recently. Thank you for your words of encouragement. Some days, they’re the only thing that spurs me on.

Not Write Now

For the past 2 days, I’ve had the privilege of reading Praying With Our Feet by Lindsey Krinks. Lindsey and I both ended up in Nashville, though we both grew up in the same small church in South Carolina. In fact, my summer job for 2 years in high school was babysitting Lindsey and her brother Russell, which does not make me feel old at all. 

While much of our stories are so very different, there are a couple things we have in common. Both of us were Church of Christ elder’s daughters. Both of us have family histories of addiction, depression, and suicide. I feel a kinship with Lindsey as she describes the confinement of her faith because of the limitations placed on women in our church. I identify with her fear of falling victim to a family curse. 

I know it has been difficult for her to publicize this book, as she is such a selfless person. She is a modern-day Mother Theresa loving on, advocating for, and ministering to the homeless and marginalized here in Nashville. I will plug her book, but I also encourage you to support Open Table, a non-profit organization who’s goal is to end poverty, support the marginalized, and educate others on issues of homelessness. 

This afternoon, I participated in a workshop through The Porch (via Zoom) where Lindsey was able to talk a little bit about her experiences with the publication process. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve been home from Mexico for 2 weeks, and I’m beginning to slide into a funk. I felt like my head was in such a good space, and I was accomplishing so much with my writing and editing. Now that I’m home, I am stalling out. I tried to sit and write today, and I just couldn’t find my groove. I am frustrated and discouraged. I know places aren’t magical, that my body doesn’t physically need to be in Mexico for my brain to be able to write. But my loss for words is making me panic. Will I have to wait until next January to get them back? Will I EVER finish and have something worth publishing? 

Just hearing Lindsey talk about how isolating and challenging the writing process can be, gave me a sense of solidarity. Knowing that someone else has navigated through the same emotions I’m feeling right now is a comfort. I think I need more of this. I need support and resources. I need a writing community. I need to know this funk isn’t permanent. 

Spring in the gardening industry is a vortex of chaos, but I MUST find ways to nurture this skill/desire/outlet of mine. Now that our downstairs renovation is mostly done, there’s a new bedroom for Reagan to use when she’s in town. This will allow me to turn her old bedroom into a writing space. It’s not Mexico, but I will cherish and work with the room I’ve been gifted. I hope some of my words will be able to find me in there.